


Am I Missing Something?

by curiosa



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-26
Updated: 2013-07-26
Packaged: 2017-12-21 10:50:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/899445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/curiosa/pseuds/curiosa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After finding another box of empty condoms in his room, Melissa comes to the conclusion that Scott and Allison are back on track. She might just have the wrong end of the stick.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Am I Missing Something?

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a prompt over on the tw-promptmeme over at lj.

“So, Allison?” Melissa asks, stretching to put away the umpteenth box of milk duds she’s had to buy this week, hiding it behind a tub of decaf coffee because teenage boys don’t drink that, right? Or maybe werewolf senses sniff out anything? Especially, it seems, _chocolate_ , even if it is hidden behind the stench of fake coffee with red marker pen saying _do not eat under pain of death_ written all over it, but dammit sometimes after a long shift she just needs her hit of the sweet stuff, and one more night of coming home to find another empty box just might land her at the sheriff’s office being questioned by him.

She can imagine the conversation now – _how did it come to be that there were two bodies discovered in your kitchen, Melissa -_ though considering the Sheriff has Stiles, Scott and now probably Isaac over at his place too, at least the rest of the time that they’re not at Melissa’s, or out doing things that make her want to weep and ring her hands through with worry all night, maybe he’ll go easy on her, even sympathise with her murderous rampage and brush it all away under the table neatly.

“What?” Scott’s looking up at her as she shoves the decaf back in place, murderous thoughts scattering to the wind, at least until she comes back to find the box empty.

Scott’s confused if that looks anything to go by and a genuine look too if she’s any good at reading her son, which, despite the whole werewolf secrecy pact and things that go bump in the night mishap, she thinks she is – and besides they don’t cover what to do when your son gets bitten in any parenting book she’s ever read. How are you supposed to deal with even more hair and fangs after puberty?

“Allison?” She repeats, watching as Scott turns to raise quizzical eyebrows up at Isaac who’s currently leaning over her son’s shoulder and looking just as bemused, practically curling up beside him. “You know, dark ringlets of hair, pretty dimples, need I go on?”

“Has she been here?”

Well isn’t that the question? One that both her and the box of empty condoms she’d found when, not snooping exactly, but discovered while emptying his trash can for the week, would both like to know.

“Has she?”

Melissa doesn’t miss the slight twitch to Isaac’s shoulders as he curls his fingers tight around Scott’s wrist, succeeding in pulling his attention towards him as Scott gives the tiniest shake of his head. Having spent the last sixteen years watching two boys grow up and swiftly delve into hiding secrets from her, Melissa knows that there’s definitely something up, something going on, even if she has to do some further digging in order to get it out of her kid.

“Mom?”

“Just wondering,” she shrugs; they have a deal now, anything life threatening and she needs to know, anything else is fair game, if, to her, annoying. She’ll needle whatever’s going on out of him eventually; she’s seen the way her son goes all moon-eyed at that girl and he’s definitely been more floating on a cloud distant lately now that she thinks about it.

“No reason,” she smiles, turning back to unpacking the rest of her groceries.

 

* * *

 

She’s sipping her coffee when the empty seat across from her skids across the cement in an ear clawing shrill, the kind that always makes her want to yell at people to lift things, _lift them_ , fingers slipping and spilling the dark liquid out across the lip of her cup and out over onto her fingers, thankfully too cold now to actually burn her.

“Melissa, I’m sorry.” She shakes her head, shaking out her fingers and passing over the sheriff’s own cup of now lukewarm coffee. “Couple of kids-” he grimaces, “nothing you want to hear about,” and waves his hand. “Guess I should be grateful it’s not been too eventful of a day for once, hey?”

Melissa gives her best sympathetic smile to that one, knowing better than maybe even the sheriff how a couple of kids causing trouble is the least of this towns worries, not when it could be the discovery of another dead body making him late to their weekly date of coffee. Not like it’s actually a _date_ date, meeting, is that the right word? She’s never thought it through enough about what to call this.

“So what have they been up to this week?” John interrupts, taking a sip of his coffee, letting his eyes roll up into the back of his head. “This is the good stuff, much better than the brand Stiles has us switched to at the office. You won’t?”

“Tell your son that you secretly enjoy an unhealthy starbucks every other week? With a really unnecessary couple of chock chunk cookies,” she says, stealing a bite for herself. “Of course not, I use information like that for bargaining chips when Scott’s up to something no good and won’t tell me.” At that she grins wide, “Speaking of, Allison Argent?”

John blinks.

Melissa takes a sip of coffee to steal her nerve because she has not turned into this kind of mom, right? This is not her peeking into her son’s sex life? God, just the thought makes her shudder. The kind of mom that back when she was fourteen and shucking her way down the slop of her own roof in order to meet some freckled boy with a couple of cheap bottles of wine, sveltely avoiding her own mama and her own curfew, she’d always promised to herself that god forbid she would never become.

“Not seen her in a good while.”

“Really?” Melissa lets her head fall into her hands.

Her son is responsible, she knows this. It’s why he’s at least using condoms, the small voice in her head whispers.

 It doesn’t help matters.

 “Anyone else on the scene that you know of?”

John sniffs, leaning back in his chair in the way that the mom in her always wants to lean forward and tell him that he’ll break it. “Just Stiles and Scott, oh, and the Lahey kid.”

“Isaac,” she nods.

“Yeah, he’s becoming a permanent fixture.” He’s shaking his head and Melissa’s been told the short version of Isaac’s story that alone would make her want to dig up Lahey’s grave and punch him where it hurts for.

“I guess Lydia’s been around lately,” John tilts his head. “But Stiles has been obsessed with her for so long that I think the bro code would stop anything from happening between her and Scott. Not likely.”

“Is Stiles?” She widens her eyes and John leans back laughing.

“The night that happens I’ll give the kid a beer myself, and anyway, they seem more like friends now, or at the very least reluctant allies, which is maybe a good thing, at least for the moment.” He doesn’t look so sure and at the thought of Stiles and Lydia together scheming, she can sympathise. "You worried?”

Melissa scrunches her nose. If John knew the truth, which is something Stiles and Melissa have talked about and Stiles has to come to deal with in his own time. Because when it comes down to it John is one of her oldest friends, one she doesn’t appreciate having to not lie, per say, but at least omit the truth to.

If he knew the real truth he’d know how at times it feels like sleeping is a thing of the past for her and not just because of her work hours, but how the rattle of a trash can outside her window at night has her reaching for a bat without a second glance, just in case it isn’t some night time scavenger. How every time she has to watch her son’s skin knit itself back together slowly she thinks what if? What if this time it doesn’t heal properly, just continues to bleed slowly out of him?

How empty condom boxes were, in reality, the least of her worries.

“All the time,” she answers him firmly.

As John wraps a firm hand around the top of her own. “Me too kid, me too.”

* * *

 

Just when did cleaning the house become part of her nightly ritual? One that she really doesn’t have the time for.

On her way through the kitchen she’s picked up enough stray clothes - some with burn marks or holes, some with even the occasional, oh, who’s she kidding, more often than not coated with what she doesn’t want to think about as rusty brown blood stains, the kind that she really doesn’t want to ask her son or their new lodger about either.

She’s put what she can salvage through the washer and dryer, folding what she recognises into a pile for Scott and the rest into another for Isaac.

There are enough plates in the sink to make her eyes water and she’s not sure where the boys are but that’s going to be waiting for them whenever they get back, whatever condition because if she’s going to make and buy people food the least they can do is wash up afterwards for her.

She grabs the clean clothes and makes her way upstairs to what was once her sleaze of a husband’s room between the points of we can no longer sleep together and get out of my house, I’ve moved on now, to what was then a guest room that really never held any guests, to what is now one Isaac Lahey’s room for the foreseeable future.

When she reaches Isaac’s room and opens the door, it doesn’t appear to look much different to her old standard guest room. You wouldn’t even think the kid lived here. She pads inside and puts the clothes down on the bed, smoothing down the quilt covering as she does so.

Does he even make his bed?

Considering there’s supposed to be a teenage boy sleeping here every night the room looks suspiciously tidy. “Huh?” Maybe Scott could take a few pointers?

Tracing her way back, Melissa walks the few steps to her son’s room, opening the door with her leg and grimacing at the complete and utter difference. Scott’s blankets are half hanging off the bed and there’s more dirty laundry peeking out from under it, and really, why can her son not open up the window and air out his room just a little? There’s notes all over the floor which means either Stiles has been over for study sessions or Scott’s keeping up with his promise, and after seeing the latest round of test results, Melissa’s pretty sure it’s the latter. She puts the pile of clothes down on the free edge of the bed, bending down to scoop up Scott’s notes and depositing them down in a rough pile back on his desk neatly.

For the next half hour she tidies what she can, discovering more of Isaac’s clothes and belongings in Scott’s room than she’d expected,which probably explains why his own room looks almost unlived in. Teenage boys, seriously? Scott’s probably been wearing half of Isaac’s clothes without even realising.

It’s a lot neater by the time she’s finished, throwing away empty boxes and wrappers and sorting clothes out that need to be washed from ones that still smell fine and have just been dumped on the floor haphazardly. At least there are no rotting pizza boxes or curdling bowls filled with dregs of cereal, just enough of Isaac’s belongings to make her wonder if Isaac’s moved into Scott’s room permanently.

She leaves after that, pretending that she hasn’t seen the box of condoms hidden none too stealthily behind a stash of magazines. A brand new box that’s already been opened.

She’s not snooping, honestly.

* * *

 

Chris Argent is one of those guys that any single Mother going through a really bad dry spell gets a dry mouth around and little girl blush, probably the married ones too if the looks being thrown their way are anything to go by. Part of her thinks it’s the leather jackets and the rough guy vibe, maybe it’s the stubble. A quality that makes the teenage girl inside of her still tingle with anticipation if he so much as gives her a look, even if the adult inside of her stealthily reminds her that he’s a recent widower, not to mention the dad of her son’s on again, off again girlfriend, which might well currently be on again, and part of this whole wacky werewolf world, even if Scott assures her they’re both 100% human.

“Mrs McCall?”

“Allison, Chris, how’s everything going?”

There’s a shy streak to Allison now when she smiles, a swift duck and quick turn away of her head, an awkward stint that’s grown between them. Melissa isn’t sure if it’s through their shared history, down to Chris looming over the pair of them, or down to Allison’s recent traumatic history. Either way it reminds Melissa of the first couple of weeks of Scott and Allison’s relationship, when they used to bounce apart if Melissa so much as walked through the door and caught the pair of them bumping shoulders.

“Fine, good.” She grins back up at her dad who smiles and nods at Melissa politely, walking a fair distance away in order to give them a small amount of privacy. The mom in Melissa has her checking out the contents of her cart, mostly healthy items, some cereal, and a couple of packets of twizzlers. Allison catches her spying and grins. “They’re my weakness.”

“You should add a couple more packets, I swear I’m even hiding my stash and it’s still getting eaten.” Because when Isaac and Scott aren’t sprawled out on the couch together or whispering god knows what to each other, they’re eating her chocolate.

Melissa rolls her eyes and Allison nods, sympathetic, shifting from foot to foot as she throws a quick glance at her dad who’s currently paying neither of them any attention, fingers gliding across the shampoo aisle as if he can’t choose between mint or lemon.

“How is he?” Allison asks, eyes flitting away as if she knows she shouldn’t be asking. “Scott, I mean,” she clarifies right as Melissa shifts her basket.

“Good, good,” she answers, slightly confused unless this is some elaborate way to get her off the scent that Scott’s put her up to. “Don’t you two…”

“See each other at school? Sure, but,” she shrugs. “I’ve been trying to keep a low profile.” She flicks another gaze to her dad and Melissa nods, understanding.

“He’s doing well, his grades are up and,” she rubs a quick hand over her head. “You two really haven’t been talking?” there goes her theory about the two of them being back together.

Allison shakes her head. “A little, we’ve been trying to keep our distance.”

“Right, right,” Melissa answers, flustered for just a split second because if her son isn’t spending time with Allison then who is he? Apart from Stiles, of course and well, Isaac.

“That’s good,” Allison tucks her hair back behind her ear. “Well I should get going, um, don’t tell him that I’ve been… would you mind?”

“I won’t say zip.” Melissa promises. “Us girls have to stick together, right?” And she curls a sympathetic hand around Allison’s slim wrist, hopefully getting across that though she may be her ex boyfriend’s mother; she’s also someone who’ll listen if she ever feels the need or want to.

* * *

 

“Uh, Mom, you’re home?”

Melissa walks through the door to what smells like tangy spices and meat and roasting vegetables. “I am,” she says suspiciously, eyeballing her son who looks like he’s been caught in the act and found guilty. She sniffs the air slowly, if Scott is cooking it usually spells disaster, but the rich and warming scents coming from the kitchen definitely don’t smell like burning this time, or of the heavy spray of air freshener to cover it. “Scott?”

“We were hoping you’d be about twenty minutes later, we were going to surprise you.”

Melissa puts down her bag and rolls her shoulders back to feel her neck pop. It’s been one of those days at the hospital; the kind that even an intravenous drip of coffee straight into your bloodstream don’t seem likely to get you through.

“Now?” she asks, because as much as she’s been wanting to meet this new mystery date that is clearly having sex with her son under her own rooftop. Privacy, sure, and she knows her son is practically an adult, but still. She kind of needs to wash her hair and has been reliably informed before that dubious blood and vomit looking stains on her scrubs don’t always make the best first impression.

Scott eyes her top and looks down at his watch. “Go,” he says, pushing her off towards the stairs and her shower. “You’ve got like fifteen minutes.”

“But shouldn’t I-” she’s about to say meet our mysterious chef, but Scott’s already had her walk halfway up the stairs and turned his back to disappear back into the kitchen. “Okay then, I’ll just make myself look presentable.”

Fifteen minutes later and she’s debating whether she needs to look warm and inviting or slightly intimidating, just in case. Her own mother-in-law had looked intimidating and well, look where that had gotten her to. Allison had been a princess and as far as first girlfriends go rounded off any competition pretty hard to beat, but who knew what kind of girl Scott was bringing home now? Or what kind of supernatural being? Her face twists in the mirror at that one. Could the new girl be some kind of lizard monster or werewolf? What exactly happened if two werewolves… well… did that mean babies with fangs and glowing eyes, fur in unnatural places?

Getting ahead of yourself, Melissa.

She forces herself to take a deep breath, besides the only female werewolves she knows of had been poor Erica Reyes and now, what had Scott said her name was? Cora, a Hale that had come crawling out of the woodwork somehow, and Melissa wasn’t really sure she approved of her son dating a Hale in the long run. Too many secrets and twisted plots ran in that family.

“Mom, are you coming?”

She takes one last look at her dress in the mirror, nice, not too fancy, welcoming and strong colours.

“Right, lets meet … oh… Isaac?”

Confused, she takes a step back. Blinking as Isaac walks up to the table, placing down her best roasting dish in the middle as a centrepiece. He lifts the lid, shyly smiling as the aroma of warm spices and tender meat waft their way over. The dish, if it’s the one she thinks it is, is one of her favourites and smells just the way she remembers, just like her mama used to make for cool summer nights back home.

“You’re dressed up?” Scott looks confused for a beat before, “Have you got a date or something?”

“What, no!” She laughs. There’s a fat chance of that these days. “I just thought-” she looks over to where Isaac is standing, spoon waiting eagerly in his right hand, ready to dish out on Scott’s order. She really doesn’t want to ruin whatever effort the both of them have gone to here.

 “I just thought I’d make the effort.” And clearly she’s got the wrong end of the stick somewhere.

They take their seats and Isaac dishes out the meal; hers first, followed by Scott and then his own hearty portion.

“I just wanted to say thank you, Mrs McCall, for allowing me to stay here and-”

Melissa waves him away, “First off, it’s Melissa and you know there’s absolutely no need for that.” She takes her first mouthful, the meat practically melting away on her taste buds before sliding down to her stomach. “But if this is the way you do say thank you then yes, maybe I could stand to hear it a little more often. My god!”

 Isaac grins and shrugs, Scott elbowing him in the ribs and throwing him a soft look that practically has Isaac beaming.

“Maybe you could even teach Scott a thing or two, especially if you’re going to be staying here indefinitely.” They’ve not yet had the talk, but Melissa knows she could never stand to throw out any kid, especially one like Isaac, who, while a little rough around the edges, sure, hasn’t in any way; shape or form had the best of starts either. “Who taught you to cook?”

“My Dad,” he replies quietly, “and my brother, before…” he trails off and Melissa nods back at him, blowing on a particularly hot piece of meat before it burns her.

“Well if you can teach Scott not to burn water, I’d be grateful.”

“Mom!”

“What? It still amazes me that you can put together a sandwich.”

“Like you do much better!” Scott laughs as Isaac turns to watch her son, noticing that the way he’s been sat since Melissa walked into the room, back straight and as small as possible, is slowly unfurling until he looks more comfortable and at ease with the both of them.

“There’s a reason he brings me so much take out to work. Granted, I’m no culinary diva, but I can at least dish up a decent meal.” Scott makes a ‘pssh’ sound and Isaac laughs as she throws her son a set of daggers. “Okay, so pretty much the only time we eat decent is when the Stilinski’s come over, but maybe we can both learn a little something from our new houseguest, hmm?”

“So glad to hear that.” Scott tucks his head down against his chin and Melissa smiles over at the both of them, raising her glass and looking around at what has always constituted her small home and small family, one that’s now grown to include Isaac just as easily.

“Of course.” With that she tucks into the rest of her meal, catching the sight of her son pressing his hand down on top of Isaac’s softly, the way that Isaac relaxes inch by inch beneath his touch.

* * *

 

“So I was thinking,” Melissa says, elbowing Scott’s door open to find her son sprawled on top of… Isaac? Holy hell, is that Isaac? Legs twisted around each other that has them both stuck for just a split second, and that’s Isaac definitely half naked underneath Scott as he- oh!

She turns her back just as fast, too slow to miss the springing apart as both boys push off of each other, rolling off the bed in a way that at any other time would have had her laughing.

“Sorry,” she says, wincing. “I am so sorry.” God, this could not be worse and okay, they’ll be laughing about this in a few years, but right now, well… really not that easy to find funny.

“Mom!” Scott’s running his hands through his hair.

And Isaac’s hastily pulling his shirt down. “Mrs McCall, I am so sorry.” She slowly feels like she can open her eyes fully again and looks carefully up at the both of them. Okay, both wearing clothes even if… yep, Isaac’s t-shirt is on backwards. Hair mussed up on both sides and red in the face, which really isn’t that surprising, especially since she can feel her own face really hot beneath her fingers.

“What?”

“You can’t just walk in like that,” Scott starts and okay, no, her house, her rules. Her son and her houseguest. _Her son and her houseguest._

“Well I didn’t know there was anything to walk in on, did I?” she argues. “Is this new? I mean,” she crosses her arms. “How long has this been going on for?” She thinks back to the empty box of condoms and sort of wants to slap her own forehead. Isaac? Really? _Isaac?_ How did she miss this?

“A while,” Scott starts and shrugs, but he’s standing in front of Isaac protectively.

“Sort of,” says Isaac, who can’t look smaller if he tries to.

“So this is what’s been going on, not Allison?” she blurts out.

“What?” says Scott who’s now back tracking the conversation, sudden realisation dawning on his face as everything clicks into place for him. “You thought? Oh, no, no, I’ve hardly even seen Allison recently.”

“Mrs McCall, if you want me to-” Isaac waves a hand towards the door and Scott reaches out before she can even answer, twisting his fingers around Isaac’s and pulling his arm back down to link between them.

Okay. Melissa takes a step back, conversations and small touches and teenage boys being way too comfortable with each other that she really should have already seen this, because Stiles and Scott is one thing, they’re practically brothers for crying out loud, but Isaac and Scott, no, she should have seen it, should have _realised_.

It’s been a full minute but what feels like longer and Scott’s looking at her with a spark of defiance, ready to argue his point if need be and he really, really doesn’t have to. Her son should know he doesn’t have to.

“You couldn’t have told me?” She asks instead, looking carefully between the both of them, her eyes softening as Scott backs down instantly.

“We sort of thought you already knew,” Scott shrugs, pulling Isaac closer towards him. “The comments about Isaac practically living in my room, how you knew there was something going on that I wasn’t telling you. The looks… ”

Alright, putting it that way, Melissa could understand where they were both coming from. “So the meal was?”

Isaac speaks up at that, saying, “Scott said it was your favourite, I thought I could try and, you know,” he’s shifting uncomfortably, what; win her over with a homemade meal or something? She thinks back to the days she’d tried to do that with her own mother-in-law and okay, maybe it hadn’t gone quite so smoothly.

She takes a step towards him, “You never, ever have to try and win me over again, okay?” Isaac’s face relaxes. “Though it did earn you brownie points, I have to admit that.” And with that a small smile curls onto his face. “But I wouldn’t let anybody I didn’t like live in my house, and Scott is usually a good judge of character.” She squeezes her eyes shut, grasping her hands. “I just wish you boys had told me.”

“So, you’re okay with this?” Scott asks her and Melissa sighs, like there’s anything else she could be.

“Like you even have to ask.” She turns around, rolling her eyes, already having forgotten the original reason for even coming in here in the first place. The boys have got their heads pressed together and okay, she has to admit that it’s really cute, Scott’s got his hand pressed lightly at the lip of Isaac’s shirt and right, no, she’s alright with the relationship but she’s still the mom here. “Not on my watch, boys! Oh no, out!” She throws her arm towards the stairs and Scott throws her an incredulous look back.

“You’ve got to be kidding?”

“Hey, I’m still the responsible adult here and I am not cleaning up this house while you two are up here having-”

“Mom!” Scott cuts in, but she’s determined to finish, “sex.”

“If this is going to happen, and clearly it already is, we need to at least set out some ground rules.”

At least she can tick, are you having protective sex off the list; she already knows the answer to that one.

****

  


End file.
